


Gambling With Souls

by masterwords



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Aaron Hotchner Whump, Blood and Injury, David Rossi Whump, Gun Violence, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, M/M, Torture, cigarette burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:22:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28927239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterwords/pseuds/masterwords
Summary: As these things often have a way of going, it didn’t remain that way. They sat on a fairly full train, each engrossed in their newest books when everything came to a complete stop and went black.  They heard screams of terror and gun shots before they ever saw anything. Spencer and Dave dropped their books to the ground and shot out of their seats, but Dave quickly pushed Spencer back down and motioned for him to stay in this car.“Keep them calm,” he hissed, pulling his gun out and creeping forward down the aisle.  He reached the door and peered through the window into the darkness, and just prior to depressing the button, the door shot open and in rushed two men in rubber masks, one Freddy Kreuger and one Michael Myers.  Not far behind was Pennywise, a shock of bright red hair illuminated by flames coming from the car ahead which was now utterly silent after the massacre.  Freddy and Michael rushed past Dave, who was flat against the wall in the shadows, but Pennywise caught the glimmer of his gun in the firelight and thrashed out with his elbow, clocking Dave in the cheekbone before he could react.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/David Rossi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Gambling With Souls

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from “More Human Than Human” by Rob Zombie. I wanted to write a story with an actual plot (sort of), and whump Dave a bit too this time to prove that I’m not just a one trick pony. Ha! So, sure, Hotch still gets hurt because he’s Hotch, but we have hurt Dave and pissed Morgan and competent/non-baby Spence and Sean! All my favorites. Plus a fun horror movie twist. Tasty, tasty, beautiful fear.

“So this is Sean’s place?” Dave asked, following Aaron to their table. The restaurant was small and dark with walls made from retired whiskey barrels. He called it Mash, clever boy. It smelled like charred caramel and rotting wood, sickly sweet and smoky. “ It’s nice.” The tables were lit with candles, throwing eerie dancing shadows across the room. There was nothing kitschy about the place, it looked like a dank moonshine cellar during prohibition with a floor the color of dirt, except for a wall at the back that was lit with crackling sodium lights and full of whiskey bottles, from cheap well whiskey to some exclusive top shelf items that cost more than a month’s rent per glass. 

“Sounds like he’s doing well,” Aaron said softly, taking his seat across from Dave and looking around. He glanced up at the ceiling and as he began returning his gaze to the table, he saw Sean approaching him. Dressed in a white button down and black pants with a neat string bowtie at his neck, hair slicked back away from his face, he looked like he’d just stepped out of an old western. It struck Aaron at that moment that his brother looked like Doc Holliday and he smiled. 

“Aaron!” Sean called, waiting for his brother to stand before pulling him into a tight hug. “You finally made it up! I couldn’t believe it when Sally told me she’d just seated you. And you brought Dave! Hey! I’ve got a whiskey I’ve been dying to let you try.” Dave smiled, his obsidian eyes twinkled in the candlelight. 

“I’m intrigued,” Dave replied, shaking Sean’s hand quickly. They didn’t need to order, Sean just started sending out plate after plate that he wanted them to try and kept the whiskey flowing. He sat with them at times, visiting, telling them about the important people who had come into his little restaurant, how he wasn’t making any real money yet but he was staying afloat and that was the big thing for the first few years he knew, especially in New York. He attempted to comp their meal, saying he couldn’t take money from his brother who had made it all possible, but Dave, clever as he was, offered Sean an investment check in lieu of paying the tab they’d acquired. With the bill settled, and Sean allowing them to at least tip the staff, they left the little restaurant warmed through with whiskey and smiles and Sean even noted that the two of them held hands on their way out, something he’d not seen his brother do since the early days of his marriage to Haley. The days when he smiled freely, or at least with less hesitation. It was nice, Sean thought, seeing his brother happy. 

“Where are you off to?” Dave asked as they paused on a corner beneath a lamp post. Aaron shrugged. 

“Probably just back to the hotel. I’ve got some reports to finish up and a shower to take.”

“I won’t be late,” Dave said with a smile, his eyes glittering in the hazy glow of the lamp. He was going to meet Spencer in a bookstore cafe for coffee and dessert, though he wasn’t sure where he’d be fitting any of it after the meal he’d just consumed. It was indulgent, but he got this way when he came to the city – gluttonous, lavish, putting as much distance between this life and his old one as he could. The walk to the bookstore wasn’t long, and he turned back more than once to watch Aaron heading toward the train station, cutting a breathtaking and haunting silhouette against the hazy New York night. 

After the bookstore, Dave and Spencer made their way toward the train station, ready to call it a night after an evening of too much coffee and chocolate croissants and biscotti. Dave wasn’t sure he should ever eat again after this night of gluttony, but he was satisfied and happy. He and Spencer didn’t get enough time on their own, a fact that he lamented often and finally remedied. They’d discussed writing and literature, dived deep into a discussion of the Oxford comma and finished up talking about the relative importance of cover art on a young adult novel. It had been a deeply satisfying evening for both of them. After the conclusion of a long case, a few days off in New York was just what they’d each needed. 

As these things often have a way of going, it didn’t remain that way. They sat on a fairly full train, each engrossed in their newest books when everything came to a complete stop and went black. They heard screams of terror and gun shots before they ever saw anything. Spencer and Dave dropped their books to the ground and shot out of their seats, but Dave quickly pushed Spencer back down and motioned for him to stay in this car. 

“Keep them calm,” he hissed, pulling his gun out and creeping forward down the aisle. He reached the door and peered through the window into the darkness, and just prior to depressing the button, the door shot open and in rushed two men in rubber masks, one Freddy Kreuger and one Michael Myers. Not far behind was Pennywise, a shock of bright red hair illuminated by flames coming from the car ahead which was now utterly silent after the massacre. Freddy and Michael rushed past Dave, who was flat against the wall in the shadows, but Pennywise caught the glimmer of his gun in the firelight and thrashed out with his elbow, clocking Dave in the cheekbone before he could react. The clown kicked the gun down the aisle to his cohorts and grabbed hold of Dave with what felt like superhuman strength, hefting him up high and throwing him over a mess of terrified people in seats. His credentials fell onto the ground at the clown’s feet, and he stooped to pick them up. Dave was sure that even beneath the eerie smile of the mask, he was grinning double. The door to the car closed with a loud whoosh behind him and they were sealed in. 

“Guys! We got a fed!” 

Spencer shifted in his seat, struggling to see in the dark. He patted his pocket, made sure his credentials were well hidden, it wouldn’t do Dave any good for him to move now – they’d both end up in deeper trouble. He sunk down into his seat, affecting a meekness that he had spent his entire life trying to overcome. He looked small, young, scared. It came easily, but he hated it. He could smell the blood and the smoke from the car in front of them, and now there were alarms ringing and sirens blaring from somewhere outside the train. There would be police soon, and Spencer knew this situation was about to devolve into chaos quickly. He watched them swarm Dave on the floor, stripping him down to his underwear, tucking his credentials inside his clothing and tossing the heap out onto the platform for the cops to find. They strapped him to a pole, front and center, arms bound behind his back and Spencer had to squint to see him until the cops showed up with their spotlights, flooding the train with an eerie white glow. He wanted to call Hotch, or Garcia, but he was afraid the light from his phone would catch the eye of one of the attackers so he sat still, watching everything that was going on carefully, noting the way each of the men behaved around the others. Pennywise was clearly the leader, Michael and Freddy did everything he told them to. Freddy seemed to hesitate the most, but not much, he was very much involved. They hollered about everyone staying in their seats, no one else had to die. Spencer had heard that line plenty of times, he knew very well that more people were going to die if left up to them, they were almost begging for someone to step out of line. When an old man shouted at them to get off of the train and get some help, Spencer was sure they were going to shoot him, but instead they attacked Dave – cracked him hard in the chest with the butt of a gun as a warning. Dave was slumped over, eyes closed, and had no reaction when he was hit. Freddy lit up a cigarette, took a few drags through the slit opening in his mask and stubbed it out on Dave’s collar bone, eliciting a shriek out of the man. Spencer tried not to flinch at the sight, tried to hold his features in their scared boyish way, timidly looking at Dave and then the floor. His gun burned against his calf, fingers itched to pull it out in some wild west fantasy and take all three of them out in one go. This was Tombstone, and he could be Wyatt Earp. Except he couldn’t, not yet. Out of the corner of his eye he saw an officer pick up Dave’s clothes, flip open his credentials and pull out his phone with a stricken look on his face. Spencer knew his team would be there soon. 

Soon didn’t begin to cover it. As if they had the powers of teleportation, the scene seemed flooded with familiar faces – Aaron first, Morgan hot on his trail, followed by JJ and Alex Blake, all in plain clothes and Kevlar vests. He tried to catch their eyes, craning his neck just a little side to side, and finally he felt that familiar shock of eye contact – Alex saw him. She sidled up to Aaron and indicated the direction he was sitting, and he in turn inclined his head in the direction of where they had Dave bound, hoping he could see what was going on. He had. 

“Blake,” Aaron whispered, begging her to follow his eyes. “Look.” She saw Dave too, and they both moved to where the rest of the team was to let them know what they’d seen. Morgan regarded Hotch carefully, searching his features for the impending explosion he knew was bubbling just beneath the surface. 

“Hotch,” Morgan said, as even as he could muster. “We’ll get them out of there.” They all needed to hear it. Didn’t matter how often they found themselves in these kinds of messes, they needed reminding. Aaron nodded. The officer who had picked up Dave’s clothing handed it to JJ, who passed it over to Aaron with a look that spoke volumes to the rage that was building inside of him. He gripped Dave’s jeans, knuckles turning white, and looked back at Spencer in the window. To Spencer, Aaron’s face was all flame and shadow, amber eyes giving off sparks. He was afraid of what his boss might do. 

“We need to get in there,” Aaron muttered, throwing the clothes to the ground and pocketing Dave’s credentials. “Do we know what they want?” he yelled this time, getting the attention of nearly the entire NYPD, his voice echoing down the tunnel. The lead detective approached him and gave him what they knew – these guys had been robbing banks on the upper East side for weeks, but had recently disappeared. They hadn’t been violent, but today they’d robbed a bank in Brooklyn and killed all of the employees after getting the money. They weren’t demanding money, they’d asked for box seats to the Yankees for life. Massacred an entire train car full of people and set it on fire, asking only for baseball tickets. Aaron felt sick.

“What did you tell them?” he asked, and the detective said they weren’t sure what to say. Screaming erupted from inside the train and they all looked up in time to watch the clown bash Dave in the face with the heel of his boot, blood spraying in the face of the passenger seated beside him. Dave slumped over, a fountain of deep maroon flowing from his nose, over his lips. He sputtered a little but didn’t cry out, didn’t speak, just stayed silent. Aaron turned around and crouched, hanging his head between his legs for a moment, trying to catch his breath. He looked up into Blake’s eyes, gentle and soothing. 

“Reid is in there. I trust him. Do you?” Aaron nodded. He did. He knew Reid was armed, and he knew the younger man was more than capable of devising a plan and handling himself. “We need to find a way to talk to him.” Aaron nodded again. He clenched his fists, pounded them against his knees and stood up, stalking over to the lead detective again. 

“We have to get on that train. These men won’t stop just because we give them baseball tickets. They want to hurt people, this is just a game to them. They have to up the stakes each time. They’re bold, they don’t think they can be stopped. You give them the tickets, they’ll massacre that train anyway.”

“So you’re telling me there isn’t any way to end this without more violence?” Aaron nodded, glancing back at the window so he could see Spencer was still okay. He was reading the mood of the train in his friend’s eyes, glad he had a seasoned agent there on the train. They needed to talk to him without giving him away. He picked up his phone, dialed Emily, knowing that she would be busy. There was a five hour time difference, he just hoped she’d pick up regardless. 

“Hotch?” she asked, clearly chewing something. Classic Prentiss, answers the phone during dinner and doesn’t even bother to swallow her food first. He almost smiled. 

“I need your insane knowledge of horror movies, Prentiss. How well do you know A Nightmare on Elm Street?” he asked, and launched into what was going on and what he thought needed to happen. She was the only person he could think of who even liked horror movies, let alone was capable of talking to people who were clearly on a different level with them. He had no business calling her, absolutely no right to drag her in, but he needed her. These men chose their masks on purpose, all monsters who killed mercilessly. Emily shuddered but agreed to do what Aaron asked of her. He kept her on the line, and soon she was being patched through to the emergency phone on the train. Hotch sent her a quick text that told her it was Freddy Krueger that picked up.

“I’m your boyfriend now, Nancy…” she began, instantly getting the man’s attention. She’d searched her vast knowledge and decided that was the best she could do to make an entrance, and it had paid off. He stammered back at her, and she hung with him for a moment, gaining some level of trust. Spencer watched, wondering what was going on, he didn’t see anyone out there on the phone. He was confused, but as long as the phone was in use, the other two seemed otherwise distracted too. They’d been abusing Dave, more cigarette burns, he now had a line of small circular burns radiating out from his neck toward his shoulder. It was just fun for them, the thing they were doing to him. Freddy and his cohorts circled around the phone, and Spencer saw an opportunity to pull out his phone and shoot a quick text to Aaron.

Can’t negotiate with them. They’re going to kill Rossi because he’s important. It’s a game of dare. 

Aaron regarded the message and sighed. He knew. He wasn’t hoping to negotiate, he was hoping to distract. That much seemed to be working, but they needed to use it to their advantage. Looking around, everyone seemed preoccupied with something and he was starting to get that twitchy restless feeling that he got when no one was paying attention, no one was taking the openings when they had them. He unbuckled his vest, dropped it to the platform and stalked toward the door to the train car opposite where the men in the masks were on the phone. The door hissed open at his touch and he stepped inside, all heads turned toward him. 

“Hotch!” Morgan called from the platform, chasing after him until the door closed behind him. “DAMMIT! Hotch!” He called for all guns at the ready, now he had three agents in that train and he was the highest rank still on the platform, this just became his scene and he didn’t like it. “On my order!” 

Inside the train, all eyes were on Aaron. He stood with his hands in the air for a moment, staring directly ahead at the men in the masks. He was daring them to make a move. They regarded him blankly, their masks covered in Dave’s blood.

“What’re you doing, fed?” A few passengers shifted nervously toward the windows, away from the center aisle. Aaron took a step forward. And another. He continued until he was in line with Spencer’s seat and could see his friend in his periphery. “I said what are you doing?!”

“Giving you what you want.”

“And what…exactly…do you think we want?” Pennywise spoke, his voice was shrill, high and muffled behind the evil grin of his mask. 

“Someone important to kill. That’s why you haven’t killed any of these people yet right? You’ve gotten your kicks with the small time people…”

“So you’re important? I got this fed right here, he’s pretty important…”

“I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief for the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit. That man you have tied up answers to me. I’m the highest ranked person in this train car, and you won’t find anyone who outranks me on the platform either. You won’t get a better offer tonight. I dare you.” 

The men in the masks considered, and Aaron could hear Emily’s voice on the other end of the phone still trying to talk to them. They kept her on the line, but didn’t say another word to her. Freddy and Michael sidled up to Dave, Pennywise stepped in front of him and leveled his gun at Aaron who just stood stiff and motionless, his hands still in the air. His eyes had gone cold, ice flowed through his veins. He knew he might die here. He trusted Spencer, but he knew there was a good chance this would all go wrong. Freddy grabbed Dave by the hair and snapped his head upward, Michael kicked him in the leg until he opened his eyes to watch. Aaron stared them down, didn’t even glance at Dave, he couldn’t or his facade would crumble. Spencer knew this was his moment, he slipped his hand down slowly to his leg and slid his gun out of its holster, sucking in a slow, deep breath. Wyatt Earp, he thought coolly. Tombstone. He only needed to take out the clown, he knew that. The other two would crumble without their leader, and their guns weren’t in their hands. He narrowed his eyes and steadied his breathing. Just take out the clown.

It happened fast, almost too fast. Dave couldn’t see it, his eyes were swollen, blood was oozing down his chin, dried in his eyelashes, his face was a mask of bruises and gore. He heard it though, he heard the clown suck in his breath and ready himself, and he guessed at the moment – kicking his foot out just a little, knocking the clown off his mark. It could have been disastrous but it worked. The shot rang out, echoing through the car, followed quickly by two more shots and people screaming. Freddy was the last of the three men standing, now with his hands in the air. Michael and Pennywise were on the ground in heaps, not moving, and Spencer stood with his gun aimed directly at Freddy now. Aaron was on the ground, pressing his palm to the hole in his shoulder desperately. It hurt worse than he remembered, or maybe he was just getting too old to jump in front of bullets anymore. There was so much blood and his arm was on fire. A moment later the train was being swarmed by police officers and FBI agents, Freddy was taken into custody, and Spencer was being praised as a hero. Aaron and Dave left in separate ambulances, Dave willingly, Aaron very much the opposite. He was angry and indignant at being carted away from his scene, but Morgan gave him no choice. He was fuming mad. Emily dialed Aaron’s number repeatedly, finally giving up and dialing JJ instead. 

“What the hell was that?!” she shouted into the phone. JJ held it away from her ear for a moment and sighed, not eager to get into the middle of whatever meltdown was going on with her team. She and Blake had been the voice of reason, emotions were running high, but ultimately they’d been ineffective. 

“Hotch saw something we didn’t,” she offered, hoping to placate Emily. Build Aaron up, even though she agreed – he made a stupid, irrational and impulsive decision. She heard the eye roll from across the Atlantic. The noise around her made it hard to hear, the platform smelled like blood and urine and smoke, people bumped into her. She tried to get out of the way, duck into a corner away from the chaos, but everywhere she turned there were people coming at her.

“So he marched in there and dared them to shoot him??”

“More or less…”

“He’s such an idiot,” Emily muttered, taking a bite of something. JJ smiled. “He said they were wearing masks. Which one shot him?”

“The clown from that movie…IT? Creepy. Anyway, he’s okay, though. His plan worked. He was betting on Spence.” JJ tried to smile, but it felt wrong. Every time Aaron did things like this, it worried her. It wasn’t like him, not the person she knew and worked with. It was like he snapped, became someone different, someone who suddenly forgot they had a child to come home to. “They’re all okay. Rossi looked pretty bad but he’s alive, Hotch got shot in the shoulder. Thank you for helping.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem. I just freaked out a pub full of drunks by talking in horror movie quotes for twenty minutes, but I got a few free pints and some phone numbers out of it. I’ve had worse evenings.”

“I miss you,” JJ sighed into the phone, and Emily rolled her eyes but smiled. 

“I guess I miss you too.”

Hospitals were among Dave’s least favorite places in the world. He was strapped to his bed by IV tubes and vital sign monitors, arguing with the nursing staff over it being a violation of his constitutional rights for them to hold him against his will. Everyone thought Aaron was a bad patient, but he didn’t hold a candle to the kind of hell Dave could raise. Aaron just grumbled, but he was always busy minding his manners, unable to shed his polite southern upbringing. Dave was a New Yorker, through and through, and he liked to think they were a different breed. Of course, his disposition got him nowhere in a New York hospital staffed by people who could put up just as much of a fight as he could.

“I’ll get my lawyer,” he threatened, and the nurse scowled at him. 

“Mister Rossi, you’ll be discharged as soon as we’re allowed. Believe me, I don’t want you here any more than you want to be here.”

“What’s to stop me from unhooking these machines and walking out?”

She rolled her eyes again. “Nothing. Have a ball.” He tried to stand, sliding his legs off of the bed, but stopped when he heard someone clear their throat in the doorway. He squinted with his one good eye at the figure standing there, tall and lean in a black t-shirt and dark jeans. 

“Sit down, Dave,” Aaron said in a voice that plainly said do not challenge me. His features were sharp and stony. Dave slid back into the bed, but glared at his partner, his one good eye nothing but an angry slit. The room felt chilly. 

“How dare you,” Dave growled angrily. “Walking into that train car was the single dumbest thing you’ve ever done in your life, and that’s saying a lot.” 

“It worked,” Aaron said, sauntering into the room now. His arm was in a sling, heavily bandaged beneath his t-shirt, incredibly painful even with the meds they’d given him. He couldn’t feel his hand, but the doctors said that would probably be temporary. He didn’t like the probably part but wasn’t going to argue. “They were going to kill you. I just offered them something better.” 

Dave closed his eye, balling his hands into fists. “They didn’t deserve something better. You had no right.” The fight, the anger, they went out of him then, and he opened his eye and just looked at Aaron sadly. “If any of us had done what you did, you’d have our badges in an instant.”

“I think Morgan is going to try,” Aaron offered, almost like an olive branch. “Emily left me three voicemails that were nothing but yelling and cursing. Morgan is talking to Strauss as we speak. I think I even upset JJ, but I stand by my decision. Those men were going to kill you, and then they would have searched everyone on board that train and found someone else they deemed important and killed them too. It was only ever going to end one way – you or them.” 

Dave sighed, felt his head sink into the pillow, tasted blood in his mouth. Aaron sat with him until they discharged him, and they both took a cab back to their hotel room. The night was uncomfortable, but it was nothing compared to the next day and the weeks that followed. Strauss called them back to Quantico and began an investigation into Aaron’s behavior, ordering a psych analysis before he could return to duty. He’d violated protocols and Morgan had been so furious he’d turned him in. Rightly so, Aaron figured. He’d have done the same thing, had threatened it enough times. He remembered considering it when Morgan drove the ambulance full of explosives away at great personal risk, but ultimately decided against it. There had been times since then that he’d regretted his decision, thought he should have done something, and was glad Morgan wasn’t going to make the same mistake. He’d pass the eval, they all knew he could pass it by lying, he knew all the right things to say – but Morgan just hoped it would put him in check. Remind him that he wasn’t invincible, or remind him that his life was important. Either way, he needed to be knocked upside the head, and this was the way to do it. 

“What are you doing?” Dave asked, peering into the mirror at his healing face. Cuts had scabbed over and his eyes were both mostly visible again, but he still looked like mutilated corpse #3 from any low budget horror film. His ribs ached when he breathed, and the burns on his chest were bright pink. He was hopeful they wouldn’t leave permanent marks, but was trying to come to terms with the probability that they would. Aaron looked up at him, meeting his eyes in the mirror, balling his right hand into a fist and releasing it over and over. 

“My hand feels funny,” he muttered. He’d been noticing it since his arm came out of the sling, sometimes it was painful, sometimes it was numb or tingly. The doctors had warned him that the bullet may have caused some nerve damage but he’d paid it very little attention. Now, he found himself a little worried. Dave’s brow creased. 

“Funny how?” Aaron shrugged, holding his hand out and examining it. The feeling now was like fire, tiny sparks from his shoulder to his wrist, fireworks in his fingertips. It was strange, but not altogether awful. Definitely not painful, as he would classify it. Just sort of disconcerting, a funny sort of feeling. It had been numb for the first week, now it was just sort of off, sometimes painful, sometimes not. It never just felt right anymore.

“I’m fine,” he said softly, setting his hand on his lap now, trying to forget about it. “Strauss cleared my psych eval. Did I tell you?”

“No, but I wasn’t concerned.” Dave went back to peering at his face, contemplating shaving. He had meetings today himself, publisher meetings. He was taking some time off from the BAU, using vacation leave he rarely ever used. Unlike Aaron, he didn’t need this job to feel whole or worthy. He did it because it felt good to catch monsters, but when the monsters caught him, he was willing to step away. “When do you go back?”

“Monday,” Aaron said, balling up his fist again. Dave watched as he played with his hand. 

“Go get that checked out,” Dave instructed, reaching for his razor now. “Before Monday.” 

Nerve damage was the least of his concerns though, so he ignored it. The tingly fireworks in his right hand came and went, along with the painful intermittent swelling in his wrist and knuckles of his left hand from injuries long since healed. If he went in and had them diagnosed as something, he’d be pulled from the field, forced to sit at his desk, and he wouldn’t risk that. He just did what he always did, managed the pain or ignored it, whatever came easier in the moment. Dave continued to hound him about it, especially when he found himself unable to hold a spatula when they were grilling, or when his wine glass became a challenge one night while they were watching a movie. He made excuses and pushed through, learned how to cope without anyone else saying anything to him, placated Dave with promises that he’d eventually go in and have it looked at, if it got “bad enough”. Dave knew better and just kept hounding. “Bad enough” for Aaron more or less meant when he was dead and not a moment sooner. 

Sean sent them an invite to New York a few months later, to come back to Mash and see the improvements he’d made with Dave’s investment. He was excited to show them the changes, let them taste the updated menu, see how busy it was now. Word had gotten around that it was Sean’s brother and his team that saved people on the subway, in what some were saying looked like an old West shootout. The way the young FBI Agent seemed to quick draw his gun was the talk of the restaurant. Sean got a reputation for being the sane one of the the Hotchner brothers after that, which was new territory to both of them. Aaron and Dave were both beside themselves over how well Sean was doing for himself, even if people gave Aaron a wider berth when they realized who he was. 

They gladly obliged, and made the trip back to New York, but this time they took a cab. Dave insisted.


End file.
